


Comments

by Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23312317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff
Summary: Requested by anon: Hi! I saw you wanted to write for Dunkirk, so I thought maybe you could use the prompt: “You’re important too,” with Collins x Plus-Size Reader. Thanks for reading❤️
Relationships: collins/reader
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

You know that every comment cuts him, its obvious from the way he writes to you when he’s on base and the way he talks about them when he’s home. Collins takes every comment to heart. It hurts…to see that people take their anger out on him when he and the other pilots try so hard to support the troops and to protect the air around Britain itself. You know that he’s not just sitting back and failing to do his job. You know that he goes out and risks his life and does what he can considering the limitations of the relatively new technology that was air travel…the Royal Air Force was barely out of its infancy.

You understood why people took it out on him and the other members of the RAF…people, soldiers and sailors in particular, were angry. They’d seen people die, they’d probably nearly died themselves. It created a lot of anger…but that didn’t mean that it was right to take it out on people who were actually doing the best they could and were doing something incredibly important. Every time you looked at the streets in Portsmouth, at the ruins of houses, and the damage caused by the Luftwaffe you thought of how much worse it would be if the air force weren’t doing their job…or simply didn’t exist. 

It was one of the rare weekends where Jack Collins was home on leave and it was proving to be rather…dower. He was trying to be his usual smiley, happy self, but it was obvious that he wasn’t as happy as he pretended to be. 

When he didn’t come down for breakfast you went up to check on him, only to find him sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. It hurt to see him like this when he spent so much time making you feel beautiful and happy, and teaching you to ignore the words that other people threw at you because of your weight. To see someone who stressed how important you were, doubt his own importance hurt. 

You climbed onto the bed behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your soft cheek into his shoulder. He lifted his hands to hold yours at his waist and just sat there. Didn’t say a word. You just held him there for a while, your soft body pressed into his, hoping that simply holding him might bring him some comfort. 

“You’re important too, I hope you realise that.” You say quietly over his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to it. 

“They don’t think so.” 

“They’re angry…not at you…but at everything. When people are angry they say things that aren’t true or they don’t mean. You taught me that. Remember?” 

“That’s different…what they say about ye isn’t true. Yer lovely. But I…How can I say I’m important when people are dying?” He turns in your arms, wrapping his around your thick waist and finally looking you in the eye. 

“What they’re saying isn’t true either.” You cup his face in your hands, “You do so much…this city would be in absolute ruins if people like you didn’t do your job. More people would be dead and homeless. Just because you’re limited by technology does not mean that you aren’t important. You’re so important. You do so much for everyone…and especially me. You have made my life a joy. You remind me every chance you get that I deserve to be happy, that I’m deserving of your love and appreciation. I don’t care what they think…because you were the first person in my life to actually tell me that I deserved more than I was getting.” You don’t break eye contact the entire time. You want him…need him to understand just how important he is. Even if its just to you.

You press your forehead to his and press a quick kiss to his mouth before speaking again. “I love you, Jack Collins. I am happier for knowing you. I am safer because of you. You do so much for me and so much for this country and angry, hurt comments are just that…comments. They’re not facts, they’re not the truth. They don’t matter. They shouldn’t. They’re muttered words from men disillusioned with a war they shouldn’t be fighting…its not about you.”

Blue eyes pool with tears, but the corners of his mouth tilt upwards and his eyes soften. “What did I do to deserve ye?”

“You were you.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s wrong?”

He finds you crying quietly on your bed. Your make up is smudge from frustrated fists rubbing at your eyes. Half the pins in your hair have come out. Your shoulders are slumped and defeated. His face falls at the sight of you, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. 

“Leave me alone, Jack.” It doesn’t have the impact you want, not when you’re sniffling and struggling to breathe without gaps in your breathing. 

You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to see him or rather have him see you. It’s hard..when people say things and hurt you. When they point out all your ‘flaws’, it is so dreadfully hard to be around him. Because that’s the problem. People say _horrible_ things to you because of him…because they’re interested in him or because they know him and they feel it’s their right to say something because look at you. How could _the_ Jack Collins fall in love with a fat girl? 

“Now, why would I do tha’, love?” 

“Please leave…I don’t…”

“What did they say?”

You’re quiet for a few moments, unsure whether you should sugar coat the truth or give it all in visceral detail. You decide on the latter because you’re angry and sad and so many feelings twist inside you, it’s hard to hide the truth when you feel so much.

“What do they normally say? How could Jack Collins fall in love with a girl like _you_? How could Jack Collins be interested in _you_? Have you seen yourself? Have you tried taking better care of yourself? They’ve all decided i’m not good enough for you. That i’m not important. That I’m someone to be tossed to the side because I don’t look like all the other girls, with their perfect hair, and small waists, and long legs. I’m tired of it…I’m so tired of it.” 

His hands press into your shoulders, urging you to move, to twist to face him. They slide down your arms and come to rest on the thickness of your waist. You pull away from his hands, the feeling of them on your body, on the places people had said were bad…it wasn’t his fault, but you just couldn’t right now. 

“What did ye say ta me when I felt at me worst? That i’m important. Yer important too. I don’t give a rat’s arse what they say and neither should ye.”

“Well, I do! They look at us together and they think it’s a joke…they’re waiting for you to leave me…to bugger off and find someone smaller and prettier and more feminine. Less homely.”

“I bloody love ye. I don’t care that yer bigger than the other girls, yer beautiful, yer my girl.” He cups your soft cheek in his hand, pressing his forehead to yours. “I think yer beautiful like this, I love yer body, I love ye…They can bugger off because I ain’t going anywhere. I actually had the opposite plan in mind.” 

He reaches between you, hand digging in his trouser pocket before he finds what he’s looking for. You can’t see what’s in his hand, not before he passes it to you. You feel something small, straight edges, and boxy land in your palm.

You pull back from him, wiping the last tears from your round cheeks as you stare at the little box in your hand. “Jack…”

“Open it. Go on.” He nudges you with his leg and you follow his instructions. The box pops open, a sound so loud in the quiet of your room. What you see is both what you hope to see and what you doubt…a little ring, nothing that would be considered spectacular, but an engagement ring nonetheless. One bought on a small wage, during war time.

It doesn’t put all your doubts to rest, but it does put one to bed. Jack does love you…he isn’t looking for the next woman to come along, he thinks your pretty and he likes you just as you are…and while you still feel the sting of other people’s comments and know that you will still worry about the eyes watching you…you also know that Jack will be there and he’ll be there to help remind you of what he sees when he looks at you. 

“I was going ta wait…I had a plan, but now seems a better time than ever.” He takes the box from your fingers, carefully, oh so carefully, before kneeling at your feet. “I love ye, probably since I first saw ye. I don’t care what people think, but I care what ye think…and I would love nothing more than to marry ye. Y/N, will ye be my wife?” 

There are tears again, but they’re different sort of tears. The sort that come from an unbelievable, incomprehensible happiness, the sort that takes over your whole body and controls your every action. 

“Yes…yes!” You slip off the bed to kneel in front of him, on the same level. You throw your arms around him and pull him close and it doesn’t really matter that the ring box and its contents are on the floor or that simply minutes ago the thought of Jack Collins wanting to marry you seemed impossible. All that matters is his arms around your thick waist and the reality that has sunken in. That it didn’t matter what people say; not your family, not your neighbours, or the local men. Jack Collins wanted to marry _you_ , not someone else, _you._ That’s all that mattered and the rest? Who gives a rat’s arse?


End file.
